Zone Rose awoke, his body responding to the internal alarm precisely at the ninth hour. He lay still for a moment, staring up at the pristine ceiling of his suite, its automated panels adjusting subtly to meet his waking eyes with soft, ambient light. The room itself seemed engineered to rise with him, as the smart-glass walls shifted from opaque to translucent, letting in a meticulously calculated glow of morning light.
Zone rose from the perfectly contoured surface of his ergonomic mattress, the sensors beneath him automatically cooling as he left the bed. His environment, meticulously designed, matched his rhythm in a mechanical harmony that never varied.
"Good morning, young Master Zone," came the familiar voice of Sir Roderick, his personal AI assistant and household coordinator, with a tone that conveyed both warmth and precision. "Your schedule today includes academic sessions with Professors Akturn, Vallera, and Wizen Howard, followed by a family dinner this evening."
"Thank you, Sir Roderick," Zone replied evenly, his voice devoid of any discernible emotion. He moved to the adjoining refresher unit, where robotic arms whirred to life, swiftly tending to his ablutions. His face and hair were cleansed and groomed with expert precision, his body washed and dried with only the slightest sensation on his skin. Zone did not flinch; the routine was as familiar as his own name.
As he stepped out, the robotics slipped back into their docking stations, and the closet doors slid open to reveal his prepared attire. His outfit, as always, blended functionality with opulence: a tailored vest and dress shirt adorned with subtle metallic threading, a symbol of the Rose family’s status. Zone slipped into the ensemble with practiced efficiency, his mind already shifting to the day’s agenda.
A flicker of disdain crossed his otherwise expressionless face as he scanned through the list of activities: sessions on history, economy, and family strategy. Another meticulously planned day, mapped out with absolute efficiency, leaving no room for deviation.
He made his way to the elevator, stepping inside as the doors slid shut behind him with a quiet finality. The AI-assisted panels around him displayed his first session’s material—Professor Vallera’s lecture on history and economy. His gaze skimmed over the diagrams and flowcharts, absorbing them as though he were examining patterns in a data set rather than records of human struggles and ambitions.
“...young Master Zone? Young Master Zone?” Sir Roderick’s voice broke through Zone’s reverie as the elevator reached the first floor.
Zone blinked, a faint frown crossing his face. “Apologies, Sir Roderick,” he replied, still in the same flat tone. “I was… lost in thought.”
“No worries, young master.” Sir Roderick’s tone was as courteous as ever, his presence unfailing in its dutiful attentiveness.
They walked in silence down the corridor toward the main hall, where artifacts hung like silent sentries. Framed holograms of the Rose family patriarchs, relics of archaic technology, and paintings from eras long past adorned the walls. Zone’s gaze barely registered them; he’d seen them all his life, and they held no mystery for him—only the dull weight of expectations and history.
“We’ve arrived, Master Zone.” Sir Roderick stopped outside the main hall, bowing slightly as Zone stepped past him through the doorway.
Inside, Professor Vallera awaited him, seated beside the sprawling cybernetic table at the center of the room. She greeted him with a nod, her gaze lingering on the holographic projections that spun and rotated in the air, diagrams and graphs that mapped the economic pathways of the past century.
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“Good morning, Professor Vallera,” Zone said as he took his usual seat. His gaze went to the central display, his fingers moving over the console without conscious thought, activating the interface.
“Good morning to you as well, Zone,” Professor Vallera replied, her voice calm but expectant. “Before we move on to today’s unit, I’d like a summary of the events covered so far. Could you walk us through the most critical developments?”
Zone rose, his posture impeccable, and leaned over the table. His fingers moved swiftly, rearranging icons, swiping through images and charts. “To summarize,” he began, “we start with the first economic renaissance under the Fifth Sector Plan, which maximized resource extraction and optimized labor efficiencies by 143%. Following that…” His voice droned on, reciting facts and figures with mechanical precision, his gaze cool and indifferent as he presented data about the history and economy of his world.
As he spoke, however, he found his focus drifting. Though his words remained precise, an unspoken dissonance stirred within him. The facts felt empty, hollow reflections of something he could not define. He paused, momentarily silent as he stared down at the flickering holograms.
“Is there something wrong, Zone?” Professor Vallera’s question was calm, but a trace of curiosity flickered in her gaze.
Zone’s focus snapped back, and he shook his head. “No, Professor. I… I was simply considering the implications of these developments.” His tone was clipped, controlled, but the faintest trace of uncertainty colored his words.
Professor Vallera raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Good. Implications are exactly what we’ll be exploring next.”
Zone sat back down, drifting into his thoughts again. Professor Vallera's voice droned on, but her words felt weightless, as if they were evaporating before reaching him. The vast, sterile room, lined with metallic shelves and holographic displays, seemed lifeless and cold. The morning light through the window held a clinical white tint, bathing the high-tech surfaces in a harsh, artificial glow. Time, like everything else in this place, felt mechanical—each second an unending echo that only added to his disinterest. That's when it happened
FWOOOSH
The entire room shuddered as though struck by a giant’s hand. Loose papers scattered from a nearby desk, fluttering to the floor like frightened birds, and one of the wall-mounted screens crackled, its glow fading to black before blinking back to life. Zone blinked, grounding himself as Professor Vallera stumbled, gripping the edge of the table, her gaze darting between her student and the flickering screen.
“Zone… are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.
“Don’t mind me, Professor,” he replied, his tone measured and calm.
Together, they turned to the mansion’s massive, translucent window. A purple gleam slashed across the pale sky outside, casting the mansion’s interior in an otherworldly glow. Unlike the sterile purple of Zone’s familiar holograms, this light felt alive, rippling and undulating like waves over a midnight sea. Shadows from dark, fast-moving clouds twisted and elongated along the ground, their tendrils stretching toward the mansion’s walls.
Outside, an unnatural wind howled—a bone-chilling gale that rattled the window panes and swept leaves, gravel, and dust into the air, swirling them in violent spirals. The clouds loomed, their presence heavy and ominous, only to be swept away as abruptly as they’d gathered, dissolving until nothing but the eerie, purple shimmer remained.
Then, just as quickly, the purple light faded, leaving the sky’s familiar sterile blue as though nothing had happened. Zone’s mind whirred, his normally detached thoughts electrified, turning over a single possibility: Was this… the Wall?
Professor Vallera remained speechless, her eyes filled not with fear but confusion as she watched the storm’s remnants fade. She turned toward her student to gauge his reaction—and froze. Zone was staring, wide-eyed, at the spot where the light had been, his face transformed.
For as long as he could remember, the Wall had stood—impenetrable, a symbol of finality, something beyond reach. Countless theories, investigations, and expeditions had sought answers, yet every attempt had faltered, repelled by some unseen force, its nature a mystery as deep as the Wall itself. Now, as a wide, childlike smile spread across his face, his eyes alight with wonder, he looked like a different person entirely.
Zone barely noticed her watching him, his own thoughts caught in the electric thrill of something utterly new. For the first time, his mind felt clear—a stagnant pool of water suddenly struck by a bolt of lightning. The world had shifted, and it was calling to him.